It was past midnight when Rahul checked into a small hotel in Kanyakumari. The receptionist handed him the key.
Receptionist: “Room 27. Don’t open the window at night.”
Rahul laughed.
It was past midnight when Rahul checked into a small hotel in Kanyakumari. The receptionist handed him the key.
Receptionist: “Room 27. Don’t open the window at night.”
Rahul laughed.
Rahul: “Why? Ghosts?”
Receptionist (expressionless): “Just don’t.”
The corridor smelled of damp wood. Inside the room, the window overlooked the dark sea. He ignored the warning and opened it. A cold wind rushed in.
A voice whispered.
Voice: “Finally… someone came back.”
Rahul froze. A woman stood outside the window ledge, her eyes glistening in the moonlight.
Rahul (shaken): “Who are you? How did you—?”
Woman: “You promised me… the night you left. Don’t you remember?”
Rahul’s heart pounded.
Rahul: “I’ve never seen you before!”
Woman (softly): “Then why are you wearing the ring I gave you?”
He looked down. On his finger, a silver ring gleamed — but he didn’t own a silver ring.
The next morning, the staff knocked on his door. No one answered.
The room was empty.
But the key to Room 27 was still on the table.
And the register showed — Room 27 had been locked for ten years.
Receptionist: “Room 27. Don’t open the window at night.”
Rahul laughed.
It was past midnight when Rahul checked into a small hotel in Kanyakumari. The receptionist handed him the key.
Receptionist: “Room 27. Don’t open the window at night.”
Rahul laughed.
Rahul: “Why? Ghosts?”
Receptionist (expressionless): “Just don’t.”
The corridor smelled of damp wood. Inside the room, the window overlooked the dark sea. He ignored the warning and opened it. A cold wind rushed in.
A voice whispered.
Voice: “Finally… someone came back.”
Rahul froze. A woman stood outside the window ledge, her eyes glistening in the moonlight.
Rahul (shaken): “Who are you? How did you—?”
Woman: “You promised me… the night you left. Don’t you remember?”
Rahul’s heart pounded.
Rahul: “I’ve never seen you before!”
Woman (softly): “Then why are you wearing the ring I gave you?”
He looked down. On his finger, a silver ring gleamed — but he didn’t own a silver ring.
The next morning, the staff knocked on his door. No one answered.
The room was empty.
But the key to Room 27 was still on the table.
And the register showed — Room 27 had been locked for ten years.
